


One mourner, one funeral

by Frkottesen



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, I Made Myself Cry, I needed closure, Matthias' burial by Nina, Nina in Fjerda, ice ice and more ice, sad stuff, wolves make an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 13:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19200232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frkottesen/pseuds/Frkottesen
Summary: Nina travels to Fjerda to bury Matthias in his homeland. Wrecked with grief, she finds an unexpected companion that allows her to carry on with her life.





	One mourner, one funeral

Nina stopped and the sled came to a slow halt behind her. She looked out over the vast expanse of ice before her. She had been travelling for almost a week now, dragging the sled behind her, carefully maneuvering it around bumps and cracks in the ice, even though the body on the sled could not feel anything. She had gotten help from other Grishas to help keep Matthias’s body in a stasis; it wouldn’t start decomposing for another week or so, and she was getting close to where she intended to go. 

She consulted her map and compass. A day’s walking, maybe a day and a half. Even though she had already passed a few of the whaling camps with their tiny huts, she was looking for a particular one - the one where she and Matthias had spent their first night together after the storm. 

As she passed the whaling camps, she could feel other dead bodies buried under the ice. Her new powers granted her a vision she didn’t much care for. Bodies in various depths beneath the ice, the decomposing slowed to a snail’s pace, due to the ice they were buried in. Nina wondered if they would ever disappear. 

She stopped at the next camp and checked that it was unoccupied. She only found a few skins and some firewood laid out. Perfect. She did not want to explain what she was doing, or what her cargo was. It had been difficult enough getting Matthias with her on a boat, some sailors were superstitious about bringing a dead body on board their ship. They always buried their dead at sea, returning them to the power that had claimed them. 

But Matthias had not died at sea. He had died in Ketterdam, a strange city far from his home, and far from Nina, only barely making it back to her, before dying in her arms. 

Nina shuddered at the memory. Flush with the success of the job, they had all been sure they had won over van Eck, Pecka Rollins, and the city itself. Only for reality to come crashing down on her. They still hadn’t found out what had happened - only that Matthias had been shot, the bullet wound draining him of his blood and his life. Was it a Stadwatch officer? A member of a different barrel gang? The shu? The Fjerdans? In the end, it didn’t matter. 

Matthias was dead.

Nina got the fire going and held out her hands to warm them. She then went outside and dragged Matthias’ body inside the hut with her. The heat from the fire would do nothing to his body, not would the ice, in fact, but she couldn’t imagine leaving him outside in the cold. 

Outside, where the ice some places were as blue as his eyes had been. Those blue eyes. That golden hair. She stroked Matthias’ hair softly. No tears. She had cried herself dry in the hours after his death and at the moment, she had work to do. 

The next morning, she set out early. She pulled the sled herself, sometimes pushing it, if the terrain was tough. When she bought the sled, she had been asked if she wanted to buy some dogs to pull it, but she had said no. She didn’t really like the animals, and had no idea how to control them. Besides, this was her last few days with Matthias, she did not want anything or anyone to disturb their peace. 

Some part of her also felt like doing penance. Like she should have been able to heal Matthias, bring him back to life. But her powers had changed (and maybe her powers had never been strong enough to accomplish such a task), and she was stuck here in Fjerda, dragging, pushing, cursing the sled forward. 

Hours later, she reached her destination. She could see the whaling camp that her and Matthias had used, and looked for a spot to start digging. She fetched the ice pick from the sled and swung it over her head. The pick hit the ice hard and she felt the energy reverberate up her arms. 

She adjusted her grip on the handle, raised the pick again, struck. Raised the pick, struck again. And again. She was reminded of when Matthias had helped her bury Nestor, after their group had been attacked by the parem-addicted Grishas. She closed her eyes, could still imagine the way he had swung the ice pick, how his whole body was behind the force, driving the pick into the ice below him. 

He had known this country. He had known every bit of it. Nina had had to learn the maps and the ice. The ice. The ever-present, all-encompassing ice. The vastness of it. 

She paused in her work. Sensing someone watching her. Looking up, she saw the wolf, standing on a ridge. The wolf had been following her for days, always keeping its distance. She wasn’t sure if it could smell the dead body, if it could smell her. She wasn’t sure she cared. Somewhere along the journey, a dark corner of her mind had opened up, suggesting that she could dig a wider grave, and lie down next to Matthias. 

Lie down next to him, just as she had done on the reaper’s barge in Ketterdam, when they had escaped the city, him dead, her as good as. 

But she had made a promise. 

(She picked up the ice pick again) 

To make it matter. 

(Swung it high)

To make Matthias’ death matter. 

(Let it fall and it the ice hard) 

Kaz had made sure that Matthias’ share of the job had been given to Nina, a small comfort some would say, but Nina knew it was no comfort at all. 

(Thunk)

At the time, she had vowed to make sure that the money was spent on something that would make Matthias’ death matter. 

(Thunk) 

She wasn’t sure how she could accomplish a task like that. 

(Thunk)

Go around Fjerdan villages, educating people on Grisha? 

(Thunk)

Finding the people already doubting their government and turning them against it? 

(Thunk) 

She scoffed at herself. Yes, a lone Grisha travelling through Fjerda - what a great idea! 

(Thunk) 

Add to that, a Grisha that had bested Jarl Brum and the entire Fjerdan force, under the influence of Parem of course, but still. 

(Thunk) 

No, she had to find another way to honour Matthias’ memory. 

(Thunk) 

His family had been killed in a Grisha raid, the experience had made him susceptible to the propaganda of Jarl Brum. 

(Thunk) 

Maybe she should set up a fund, helping people who had lost loved ones? 

She paused again, wiped at her brow, trying to keep the sweat from turning to ice on her skin. The wolf had come closer now. It sat, waiting. But waiting for what?

She continued her work, once in a while looking up, to keep track of the wolf, as it came ever closer. She had a pistol with her, but she didn’t want to use it on the wolf. The wolves were sacred to Matthias, it had nearly broken him when he had to fight them in Hellgate prison. But would she kill it if it attacked? Once again, that dark place in her mind suggested she could just let the wolf kill her. She shook her head. No. No. She had to live. That’s what Matthias wanted of her. 

He just didn’t know how hard it was for her to keep living. 

When she had finished digging the grave, she sat down on the sled. Suddenly, she realised she had no idea of how she was going to get Matthias into the grave. When they had buried Nestor, her and Matthias had helped each other lowering the body into the grave. But she was alone now. She picked up the ice pick again, started making a ramp like indent in the ice. Maybe she could then drag Matthias’ body down into the grave? 

He was so heavy and she was so tired. 

She looked up again, the wolf now only 10 meters away. From here, she could see its eye colour. Blue. As Matthias’ eyes. As the ice. What is it with this country’s obsession with blue, she wondered. As she stood there, the wolf started coming closer to her. She glanced over to the sled, but there was no way she would get there in time. She stood completely still, ice pick still in hand, as the wolf advanced. 

When it was just 2 meters away it stopped. Bowed its massive head. 

Curious, thought Nina. She eyed the wolf with suspicion, her eyes narrowing. Then, fatigue and sorrow set in. Her legs gave in, her body slumping next to Matthias’ massive body. The tears came again then. She felt them roll halfway down her cheeks, before they started turning to ice. 

She was crying blue tears of solid ice. 

She held onto Matthias, as her grief surged through her body. The wolf forgotten, until she felt its huge, warm shape lie down next to her. 

She felt its warm breath on her face. When she opened her eyes, it was right next to her, and it had put its head on Matthias’ chest. Nina and the wolf looked at each other. For some reason, it seemed they were together in their grief. Could wolves grieve? Nina dimly remembered Matthias telling her about the wolf he had had back in Fjerda. How it would have been freed after his apparent death in the shipwreck, forever to roam the ice alone. He expected it would have died out there, alone on the ice. 

“A lone wolf cannot survive, it needs its pack”, he’d told her. 

Still, Nina wondered if there was something special about this particular wolf. She reached out a hand, and carefully stroked its soft fur. The wolf closed its eyes, and settled further onto Matthias’ body. Nina sat there for a while, stroking the wolf with one hand, the other still holding onto Matthias. 

After a while, she could feel the chill settling in her bones, and knew she had to move again, use her body, chase the cold away. As she rose, the wolf looked at her, then at Matthias, and back to Nina again.

“You need to move”, Nina said, her voice barely a whisper, hoarse with crying in the cold air. She had been alone for the best part of a week, and before that, only talked when she absolutely had to. Her voice was out of practice.

She cleared her throat.

“I need to move his body”, she explained. 

The wolf slowly got to its feet, sat down, as if waiting for her command. Nina thought she might be going crazy, talking to a wolf, but then again, it seemed like a good companion at this time. 

“I’m gonna try and pull him down this ramp”.

The wolf blinked up at her. 

She shrugged, sighed, and moved to Matthias’ head. Grabbed the fabric of his jacket at the shoulders, and pulled. She only managed to make the body move a short distance. She swore, tried again. 

The wolf had moved to her side, nudging away her left hand, that was holding onto Matthias. She let go, and watched with quiet astonishment as the wolf carefully, gently took the jacket between its massive teeth. Nina adjusted her grip, now with both hands, and together, they pulled Matthias into the grave. 

“Thank you”, Nina said, slumped down on the ground, panting hard. 

The wolf laid its head on Matthias’ chest again. Nina was now completely sure, that the wolf was also grieving. 

She climbed out of the grave, looked back. The wolf raised its massive head, and Nina wondered whether it was going to howl. In the end, only a feeble sound escaped the wolf’s throat. Not a howl, more like a whimper. Nina felt the tears on her cheeks again. 

“Me too”, she said. “Me too.”.

She crouched down, and the wolf came to her. She hugged the massive shape, drying off her tears in its soft fur.

Then she got up, and started covering the grave with the ice she had dug up. If digging the grave itself had been physically demanding, this was draining every bit of her remaining energy. With each throw, the ice covered more and more of Matthias’ body, and she would never see him again. 

She paused briefly, crawled down into the grave and kissed Matthias goodbye one final time. 

“Farvel” she said, then hesitated.

“No.” She closed her eyes, trying to make her tired brain remember the words.

“Til vi ses igen”, she amended, hoping to whatever Gods or Saints that might be listening, that she really would see Matthias again.

She finished covering the grave. Sat there for a while, looking out over the vast expanse of ice, the wolf by her side. Although she had been adamant, telling everyone she had to make this journey alone, she was happy to have to wolf beside her in this moment. 

As dark began to settle around her, she rose, her limbs stiff and aching with the hard work she had carried out. She packed the sled, turned it to face the whaling camp she could barely make out, and started pushing it. After a few steps, she looked back, expecting to see the wolf following her. But the wolf had only moved a little to the side, and was now lying directly atop the grave. 

She tried to call to it, but it only looked at her, then put its head down again. 

“Thank you”, she said again. 

“Take care of him for me”.

Then she turned and made her lonely journey to the camp. 

Inside the hut, it was like she remembered it. A fireplace in the middle, firewood already in place, a pile of furs that her and Matthias had crawled into, to keep warm. Memories flooded her. The way Matthias had tried not to look at her. And failed miserably. She smiled through her tears. 

In time, she would try to remember all the good things about her time with Matthias, but right now, the grief and sorrow was too overwhelming. 

She lit the fire, dragged the furs around her, and settled in. She was alone now. She had felt alone before, but this time was different. This time she was lonely. Feeling adrift in the world, with nothing to keep her grounded.

As she was drifting off to sleep, she heard the first howl. This time, it was not a feeble whimper, but a strong, sorrowful howl. Despite knowing that the wolf meant her no harm, she still felt the hairs on her arms and neck rise.  
It was a chilling sound at first. But as the next howl made its way through the dark Fjerdan night, she found solace and company in it. 

She was not the only one grieving Matthias Helvar tonight, and she was not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The Fjerdan that Nina speaks is basically Danish, as I felt it was close enough to the Fjerdan that is used in the books. 
> 
> Please do leave a comment and/or kudos, I'd love to hear what you think!


End file.
